


Rewind the Film

by connorssock, Sylvestia



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Loss of Identity, M/M, Seizures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:33:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22070080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/connorssock/pseuds/connorssock, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sylvestia/pseuds/Sylvestia
Summary: The RK800 line was a prototype, it wasn’t meant to last. When Connor-60 was repaired and sent out to the SWAT team, it was only a temporary stopgap to fulfil a contract until the RK900 line was back in production after the revolution. Nobody had anticipated it taking so long. It was just enough time for relationships to form, Sixty to fall in love and for his parts to start breaking out. It had been small, easy to hide glitches first. But when he came out of stasis without knowing how to operate his terminal, it was impossible to hide it anymore. As things got worse and repairs were prohibitively pricey, news of his replacement arrived. He was issued with a recall, to be studied and decommissioned while his still functional parts could be used by more important RK800 models for their own repairs.
Relationships: Captain Allen/CyberLife Tower Connor | RK800-60
Comments: 6
Kudos: 65
Collections: AWBB collection





	Rewind the Film

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Android Whump Big Bang. Bit of a naughty entry because the focus had to be Connor, Markus or Kara. But Connor-60 is still a Connor ;)
> 
> The art was created by the amazing HyperKey, please give them oodles of love in the comments because they are an utter delight to work with and produce such incredible content.

The revolution had been a success, androids had won their freedom and they were individuals in their own rights. On the surface of it, everything was perfect. Only, CyberLife was the only source for biocomponents, repairs were expensive and androids had no means yet to earn money to pay for their own maintenance. For some androids, that wasn’t an issue, humans who thought of their androids as family shelled out small fortunes on them. Some work departments were also willing to foot the bill for workers who didn’t need breaks and could work round the clock.

When CyberLife technicians had found the body of RK800-60 on the floor, they had considered him CyberLife property and patched him up. As a prototype, he still had uses and was foisted out to the SWAT team for a trial. The end of the trial would come when the upgrade, the RK900 went into production - which had been delayed thanks to the revolution. Until then, the RK800 model would step in and fill the gap so the contract between SWAT and CyberLife was fulfilled.

Nobody expected the delay to be quite so long. Legislations were being churned out daily, arguments over the autonomy of deviants in service to fulfil contracts was argued, as were the legalities of creating androids to fill roles. For the most part, it didn’t matter to Sixty as such, he had a new role to fill as a member of the SWAT team. Despite his history, the team was quite welcoming of him, they appreciated his skills and nobody seemed to care that he had failed his original mission. It was his fault the revolution had been a success. If anything, a couple of them celebrated him as some kind of hero. Maybe antihero. Either way, he felt as though he was on a pedestal at times, scrutinised, analysed and constantly evaluated. The pressure to perform made his processors run at maximum capacity for longer than intended. It put a strain on his systems but that was the price for his continued existence.

There was only one person who didn’t seem to have any expectations of him - Captain Allen. He seemed to take everything in stride, accepted Sixty as he was. Or it seemed to be the case anyway, until Sixty was summoned to his office.

“What can I do for you, Captain?” Sixty asked. There was nothing in his workload that had fallen short of the standards expected of him, Sixty was sure he hadn’t failed a task. But at the same time, he was anxious that Allen might have more work for him, he was already stretched thin, another task might topple his carefully constructed and precariously balanced processing powers.

“Sit down Sixty,” Allen gestured at the chair opposite his desk. It was piled with all sorts of folders, memos and the like. All work related, all things clamouring for his attention. Briefly, Sixty wondered how Allen kept it together when he was so visibly under so much pressure. Sitting down, Sixty waited, tense and uncertain whether he was there for a disciplinary or for more work to be pushed onto him.

“Relax.” Allen gave him an unreadable look as he reached into a drawer. The movement made Sixty’s systems kick into overtime, dreading what was going to be pulled out. A can was slipped across the table towards him and he couldn’t comprehend it. Thirium. Flavoured at that. It made his processors hurt as they tried to make sense of it.

Opposite him, Allen snorted a little and pulled a second can from his drawer - a human drink - popped it open and leaned back in his chair, saluting Sixty with it. “You looked like you needed a moment to just sit.”

No doubt, Allen was aware then of just how high Sixty’s stress levels had been. He didn’t know whether to be embarrassed or relieved that someone had noticed. And not just noticed, but cared enough to pull him aside for a breather. Taking a sip of thirium, Sixty pulled the can away from his lips in surprise.

“It’s flavoured.” He stared at the can in wonder. “Is this how you experience bananas?”

Opposite him, Allen gave out a small huff of a laugh. “Sounds like you’ve not been properly taken care of, if flavoured thirium surprises you so much. It’s been on the market for a few months now.”

Nodding gracefully, Sixty kept his mouth shut about how he had other, more pressing issues such as keeping everything functional. Instead, he took another mouthful instead. It was surprisingly nice, being able to sit and enjoy the flavour but Sixty was getting anxious, each minute he spent sat down was a minute wasted. That was time he could and should have been using to work on his cases and projects because now, the five minutes he had been in the office, were five minutes he would have to cram in somewhere else. Sixty barely had time for stasis as it was, occasionally skipping it altogether, just so he could keep on top of the work.

“How are you feeling about the Randall case?” Allen asked out of the blue.

Sorting through all his mental files, Sixty’s cooling fans kicked in. He’d barely done any work on the Randall case, thought he had a little more time and other, more pressing priorities to boot.

“Don’t worry about it.” Allen’s voice cut through Sixty’s worry. “Consider it assigned back to Horton and Masters. They’ve been taking it a little too easy.”

He pulled a file from his drawer and sighed as he flipped it open, began reeling off cases, “Marshall Files, the Cowdray Warehouses, the Docks, the Galaxy gang.”

With each name, Sixty’s processors hummed as they were overworked with worry. Those were all cases he was meant to be working on. He’d been trying his best but even a machine had limits and he was running at the very edges of his capabilities, well into the range that was a warning to back off. But he’d been there for weeks now. Something in him snapped and the world cut out.

What Sixty experienced wasn’t quite a reboot, he hadn’t shut down but something in him, his deviant self had most certainly been tipped into momentary oblivion. Checking his internal clocks, only ten seconds had passed and Allen seemed none the wiser.

“I know you’re a machine,” he was saying, almost as if responding to a statement Sixty had made. “But even so, this is too much. You’re running on empty and I look after all of my team. So I stand by my decision, name the cases.”

Awkward silence descended on them as Sixty tried to figure out what cases he had to name. Searching his memory banks didn’t help, those ten seconds were as good as nonexistent to him. Opposite him, Allen sighed.

“See, this is my point, Sixty. You’re so overworked, you’re starting to split processing power too much. While I’m trying to talk to you, you’ve dedicated who knew how much of your power to try and keep afloat amidst all the work and dropped the ball. So I want you to obey the three case limit. Just because you’re a deviant doesn’t mean you get to disobey orders.” He gave Sixty a stern look but it was ruined by a small, rueful smile. “I care about you, let me look after you.”

That did not compute in Sixty’s world. He wasn’t going to be utilised to his full extent and suddenly, he couldn’t decide whether that was an insult or a reflection of his lack of abilities. Before he could ask, Allen held up a hand.

“Please don’t argue. Trust me and believe that I have your best interest at heart.”

Nodding, Sixty tried to sort through his thoughts. He needed to pick three cases from his pile and he tried to figure out which ones he was needed on the most. Some, he knew were thrown on his desk because the others couldn’t be bothered to deal with the minutiae of if it all. But then again, those he could probably breeze through if he wasn’t spread so thin. The decision was becoming overwhelming, too many factors to consider and he didn’t have the processing power to weigh up outcomes anymore.

“Sixty,” Allen’s voice cut through his haze of panic, arresting the rising stress levels. Even worse, Sixty hadn’t realised that Allen had moved and was now standing next to him, a hand hovering over his shoulder. “Come here.”

Mutely obedient, Sixty rose and was surprised when he was pulled into firm arms and held. Nothing more. Simply wrapped into a secure, warm hug.

“Forget everything for a minute. All the missions, all your reminders. Clear your HUD of everything for one second, okay?”

Allen may have been shorter than Sixty but he tucked him against his chest, pulled Sixty’s head to tuck into the crook of his neck and pressed close. The steady thump of his heartbeat echoed through Sixty’s chassis and it was something to focus on. Along with the slow breaths Allen took. Everything about him was solid, a rock that could be buffeted by anything but didn’t even budge in the face of the wind’s furore.

“There you are.” Allen ran a hand through Sixty’s hair and rested it on the back of his neck while the other splayed wide on his back. “Just be for a bit. Everything else can wait.”

It was easy to slip back into old habits and follow orders, even if they seemed counter-intuitive. Sixty allowed everything in him to slow down from the manic pace that had been his existence for too long. Cooling fans stopped spinning, processors slowed, his CPUs weren’t maxed out and slow from being overtaxed. Notifications for scans and repairs popped up but Sixty brushed them aside, he’d been asked to not do anything for a little while. It was nice. More than nice and he sagged into Allen, not even noticing how one by one his processors weren’t just going quiet, they were defragmenting, urging him into a catatonic state.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you.” Those were the last words he heard before stasis pulled him from the world.

This time, Sixty was certain he had entered a reboot sequence following a deep stasis. The first thing to come back online was his hearing and somewhere in the vicinity, there was the soft murmur of a familiar voice along with the shuffle of papers.

Next, his HUD came back online properly, notifications popping up about deadlines he’d missed, the amount of overtime he’d now have to do to catch up. There were more hours he needed to do than there were in the rest of the week. His stress levels started rocketing up as his processors fired up.

“Sixty!” The voice was firm now and Allen loomed into view in front of him. “Don’t overthink it. You’ve not done anything wrong.”

It hadn’t even occurred to Sixty that he’d done something wrong until that moment but now that added to his list of problems to analyse. If Allen said he hadn’t done anything wrong then obviously he thought Sixty had done something that someone else might consider wrong and to make it worse, it hadn’t even occurred to Sixty which made him a bad and selfish individual.

A hand on his cheek drew Sixty’s attention along with a soft command of “slow down. Fuck. You’re okay, just take it easy.” Which was definitely easier said than done. “Focus on me. I want you to be honest. Which three cases would you enjoy working on the most?”

That was definitely not a question Sixty had anticipated. He blinked and tried to find a different interpretation for it but none came forth. Slowly, he managed to even find an answer for it.

“The Murdock files, the Galaxy gang and the Cowdray Warehouses.”

If his systems hadn’t given him a soft blue of “mission successful” then he would have known he’d done the right thing from Allen’s soft smile alone.

“Very good.” The praise made Sixty shiver. “Those are your only active cases as of this moment. Everything else can be dumped back on the communal server and those originally assigned them will pick them back up. Think you could do that for me?”

A small nod later the files were loaded up onto the server and purged from Sixty’s systems. It was almost as though a giant block had fallen away from him and Sixty blinked at how much easier he could actually interpret the world around him. He had all but forgotten that he could do simple tasks like preconsctructing simple events outside of emergencies. Which was how he concluded that the best course of action would be to kiss Allen in gratitude.

Perhaps he was still a little off with his probabilities because rather return it with enthusiasm, Allen stepped away with a small frown.

“Hey now,” he was gentle, tentative but at least not furious. “There’s no need for that. If this is something you want, we can work towards it but not like this and not right now. Come back to me after you’ve had a chance to settle into something calmer and have a clearer head. You’ve had too much going on recently.”

However, he still squeezed Sixty’s hand in reassurance and offered him a smile. Internally, Sixty set a timer for a week. If, after that long, he still felt the same urges around Allen, he was going to let him know.

After everything, he suddenly found himself with almost too much spare processing power. He dedicated his time and effort to his cases but sometimes he caught himself getting lost in a preconstruction that had nothing to do with any case and everything to do with Allen. The soft, gentle way of his, the hug he’d given Sixty. Everything about him had Sixty infatuated. Why he hadn’t ever noticed it before was beyond him, probably because his systems were under so much strain already.

In the week he’d set himself, Sixty had the chance to run diagnostics, figure out just how badly his overworked systems had been stressed beyond repair. Most things seemed okay. A few sessions in stasis would clear the caches, put together fragmented files for optimum operations. However, some of the damage wasn’t so easy to spot or repair. And what Sixty didn’t know was that the worst of the damage had already been done. Now, it was a matter of time for the cascade to start and snowball into a catastrophic avalanche.

One minute and 17 seconds before the week was up, Sixty was sat at his desk, trying to preconstruct every possible scenario that could be the outcome of their chat. In a way, Sixty had missed such freedom with his processing powers and he had taken to preconstructing insignificant things just because he could. With 20 seconds to go he stood up and pulled his collar straight and marched up to Allen’s office, curious to see which preconstruction was correct. He had a couple of favourite outcomes he was hoping for.

The one outcome he hadn’t accounted for was the one where Allen was out of his office. Deflating, Sixty didn’t even bother knocking on the door when he saw all the lights were off. He turned on his heel and returned to his desk cursing himself for missing such an obvious and highly probable outcome. Now that he thought about it, he should have known Allen wouldn’t be in. And that his promise of giving Sixty a week to think had been a figure of speech, not an appointment time to discuss it again. He was so lost in his pity party that he didn’t spot Allen returning to his office with a pile of folders in hand. It was only when Allen re-emerged to get himself a drink that Sixty looked up and was treated to a small smile.

“Told you it was just a spur of the moment thing,” Allen said even though his lips didn’t move which was odd. Sixty blinked and stood up.

“I still want you,” he announced. Allen’s steps faltered and he turned to look at Sixty. “The week is up. I haven’t changed my mind.”

A slow, thoughtful nod was all he got from Allen and Sixty tried to think what he could have done differently. Before he could say anything Allen spoke up, “If you’re free this evening, why don’t we go out for a drink?”

To an outsider it might have looked awfully unethical of Allen to take a subordinate up on such an offer. But technically, Sixty was only on loan to the SWAT team and Allen wasn’t his boss. It was more like Sixty worked in one shop and Allen was the manager of another one next door. So they were in the clear in terms of getting to know each other outside of work.

As agreed, once their shifts were over, Allen sent Sixty a message for a location to meet. It was a small, out of the way hole in the wall. From the outside, it didn’t look like anything special. Going in, Sixty’s opinion didn’t change much. It wasn’t flashy, wasn’t even all that clean if Sixty let himself analyse it. Seemingly uncaring of all that though, Allen was sat by a table, playing on his phone. It gave Sixty a moment to really look him over, out of work clothes and in some jeans and a hoodie, Allen made for a much softer image than when in uniform. It certainly had an appeal and Sixty was drawn in, curious about this change. Unfortunately, his systems decided that it would be a great idea to have a glitch and he lost a few precious seconds. By the time he was back online, Allen was walking towards him with a small, worried frown.

“All okay there?”

“Nice to see you too,” Sixty quipped but it wasn’t enough to brush Allen’s worry away.

“I waved at you, you were looking right at me but there was no recognition in you. Are your systems still being over-taxed?”

Forcing a smile, Sixty brushed the concern off with a terse “I’m fine, just a glitch. My systems are still getting used to their newfound freedom.”

They settled back at the table, Allen shoving a menu under Sixty’s nose. It was an android specific menu, half a dozen flavoured options were presented, available as hot or cold drinks. The choice had Sixty puzzling over it, wondering which one was worth a shot.

“Your LED’s red,” Allen commented, seemingly nonchalant but Sixty could read the rise in his stress levels.

Rather than deflect, he sighed. “The choice is a little overwhelming. Do I want beer flavour? Cola flavour? Coffee? Chocolate? And hot or cold?”

A small, reassuring smile graced Allen’s lips as he tugged the menu away, giving it a quick look.

“Given that you seemed in favour of bananas, I would suggest something sweet. So not coffee or beer. As it is quite warm outside, I would suggest something cool rather than hot. Both chocolate and cola work cold. I think the cola one might even be fizzy.”

That sold it and Sixty nodded with a hint of curiosity, he had never had anything fizzy before. He didn’t have time to protest when Allen ordered them both a drink and paid for it with a grin.

“I was the one who invited you out. Couldn’t very well expect you to pay now, could I?”

Truth be told, Sixty had no idea about such etiquette. He’d haphazardly downloaded a patch that enabled things like flirting and understanding social cues but he hadn’t had the chance to properly install them or even have a browse of them. So he was flying blind. Thankfully, Allen either didn’t notice or didn’t care as he filled the silence with idle chat. From office gossip to music, he gave Sixty a glimpse into his life away from work. It also made Sixty realise just how rich life could be if it wasn’t steeped in work deadlines and he felt a little cheated out of it. Of course, it was all his own doing, the desperation to prove himself, to keep useful, drove him to extremes.

One drink turned into two, Sixty marvelled at the sparkling nature of the coke, the way it tickled his sensors and lit up his analysis subroutines. If Allen’s indulgent smile was anything to go by, he was very much enjoying Sixty’s reaction to the drink. More so than the sensations and flavours his own drink brought him.

The evening served to remind Sixty that he didn’t have stories to tell outside of work related ones. All of those Allen had been there for so they weren’t even all that interesting. Glancing away, Sixty was fairly certain that this whole evening was winding up to be a bit of a social disaster. However, Allen filled the gaps, listened intently whenever Sixty tried to relay a story.

By the time the call for last drinks went out, Sixty had eased up a little. He had missed three seconds of one story about a ladder, some wellies and an apple but either Allen didn’t notice or he was too polite to say anything. Either way, the story made sense and Sixty didn’t feel like he had to ask for any clarification.

As people started to leave, they got ready too. Sixty was taken off guard when Allen dipped in to press a kiss to his cheek with a soft “I had fun tonight, thank you” as he escorted Sixty outside.

It was only when Sixty got back home and he reviewed the evening that he realised sometimes Allen seemed to speak without moving his lips. And when Sixty replied to those comments or questions, he looked a bit puzzled before continuing the conversation. Similar to what had happened earlier when Sixty would have sworn he heard him say about his affections being only a spur of the moment thing. In the end, Sixty decided to not worry about it, his systems had been under a lot of strain, he was allowed to have little glitches here and there until he settled into his new norm.

The next day, Sixty almost expected things to be different at work. However, Allen was just as warm and courteous as always, nothing more, nothing less. In part, Sixty had been a little worried that in an effort to show absolutely no favouritism Allen would treat him worse. However, his fear had been unfounded and Sixty had a day like any other. Except, he actually had time to process things, to not whip through reports and evidence without truly knowing what he was doing. Even better, Sixty found that he enjoyed it, trying to tease out the links in evidence, putting together a coherent picture.

To his stunned surprise, tactical simulation exercises became something he enjoyed. No longer was he having to process case loads on top of paying attention to the situation unfolding in the training area and Sixty understood why the others whooped and laughed through these exercises, even when they messed up so bad at times. Because where else could the team feel the thrill of disarming a bomb but cut the wrong wire and blow the whole building up without it actually being a reality and a life or death situation? A wicked idea popped into Sixty’s head.

“How do you think they’d deal with a rogue android?” he asked as he tapped into the private comms channel he had to so called central command. He could practically hear the roguish smile in Allen’s voice as he replied with a lazy “I don’t know. I think we should find out.”

The tables turned as Sixty moved through the arena, sneaking and sniping out various teams. Allen was snickering in his ear throughout. It spurred Sixty on, made him take bolder options, showing off his skill.

“You have no idea how hot you look on the cameras,” Allen purred and Sixty preened. “All I can think about is how dangerous and competent my boyfriend is.”

At that, Sixty stumbled. He fell against the nearest barrels and sent them crashing, giving away his position. The team rounded on him in an instant and not a minute later, Sixty was eliminated from the game. Sitting out the rest of the exercise, he searched the conversation logs just to hear Allen say it again but it was nowhere. Holding his head in his hands, Sixty cycled through the conversation again and again but there wasn’t even a telltale click of the recording being tampered with or turned off. Nobody had meddled with the records but Sixty still couldn’t find Allen’s voice anywhere after their agreement of Sixty going rogue.

Once everyone was back, Allen flopped gracelessly down onto the bench next to Sixty and gave him an assessing stare.

“All okay there?” he asked. They had been out a couple more times since their initial drinks. Each time Sixty left feeling a little more enamoured with Allen and his steady presence.

“Fine.” Sixty sat up straight and tried to look put together.

“Then care to tell me what all that was about? We agreed you could play traitor, were doing so well then suddenly jerked and crashed into the barrels. Should I be worried?”

Despite Sixty’s reassurances, Allen still looked as though he was on the verge of ordering Sixty for a full on diagnostic. In the end, he simply nodded, taking it at face value.

“Are you my boyfriend?” Sixty blurted out when it looked like Allen was going to get up. Immediately, Allen was sinking back onto the bench with a surprised look.

“I can be whatever you want me to be,” he replied eventually. “Friend, drinking buddy, boyfriend. Thought I’d made my intentions clear but considering you hadn’t responded to my advances, I guessed you weren’t interested.”

That was a notion Sixty had to rectify, preconsctuctions gave several options as possibilities. His favourite was moving to straddle Allen and kissing him, it promised to be nice as long as Allen played along. Other options included reaching to hold Allen’s hand or talking. Like Sixty would use his words when he could use action. His dilemma was interrupted by Allen’s hand sliding closer to his and nudging Sixty’s one the bench. So much for a more obvious declaration. Still, Sixty reached to grip Allen’s hand in his and his systems hummed in happiness. He had a boyfriend.

They couldn’t kiss while at work, that really was unprofessional. However, nothing stopped the small touches that made Sixty’s processors stutter in happiness. Each little brush of hand against his waist or shoulder lost him a fraction of a second while his systems recalibrated. At least, he assumed it was happiness. It hadn’t happened before and Sixty’s quick research into emotions led him to believe that it was a physical manifestation of love.

When Sixty finally found Allen’s lips pressed against his, he lost a whole three seconds and came back to himself when Allen was pulling away.

“Not your sort of thing?” he was asking and Sixty was desperately pulling him back in. It was exactly what he had been wanting all along and now his systems were failing him. He would forever curse himself that he couldn’t remember his first kiss. Still, all he could do was pour his every emotion into his second one and hope that Allen understood.

Two kisses turned into three and four until Allen was pulling away to try and catch his breath while looking rather pleased with himself. They stared at each other until a soft giggle broke their gaze and Allen glanced away.

“I’ve not made out like that since I was a teenager, I swear.” He was a little breathless and Sixty felt some pride flush through him at that. Usually, Allen was so put together, so unruffled, it was a delight to see him red cheeked and a grinning without restraint. Weirdly, Allen’s lips didn’t move again when he said “I don’t want to take things slowly with you.” Which was a surprise but Sixty nodded,he could do with moving things along at speed, Allen was an adult, he was a competent entity in his own right, there was no societal or arbitrary rule they had to obey. If they wanted to jump straight into bed, they would.

Despite his words, Sixty still found himself going on a few dates with Allen, this time with a lot more hand holding and stolen kisses which he was growing to adore. They always made his thirium pump stutter, the anticipation of it rocketing up his stress levels in a way that as quite enjoyable.

Things moved slowly on from kisses and hand holding, to Sixty’s delight, they ended up cuddling in bed, Allen’s skin warm against his chassis. It was all so chaste, they still made out, Allen would drop kisses onto the bare skin of Sixty’s shoulder but it was all above the waist touches. At least, it was until Sixty helped roll Allen on top of him, to straddle his waist.

“I quite like you like this,” he admitted, hands on Allen’s hips, holding him in place. He didn’t quite catch the reply that was coming his way as his systems tipped into overload and Sixty lost track of everything.

When the world came back into being, Allen was sitting on the edge of the bed, worry lined his face. He was also wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants.

“Fletch?” Sixty asked, confused by the sudden change of mood and positions. Last he knew, he had Allen on top of him and grinning.

“Is it you?” Allen’s voice was defensive.

“As opposed to?”

Sixty was confused and starting to feel hurt. As far as he was concerned, they had been having fun, building up to something more that Allen had promised some time ago, when they first kissed. If anything, they had been taking it slower than anticipated and that was without the announcement that they weren’t going to take it slow.

“The machine who seems to live inside you.” Allen actually sounded heartbroken. “How do I know which one is the real you? Are you my Sixty, the one that I hold hands with and kiss? Or the one who informs me that since I’ve started viewing you as a romantic partner, my efficiency levels have risen to a satisfactory standard?”

It made no sense, Sixty couldn’t understand what Allen was talking about. It made his stress levels spike even as he tried to figure everything out. There was no denying his LED strobed red in the semi darkness of the room.

“I don’t understand!”

“Who are you?” The question was tinged with frustration and a hint of anger. Sixty couldn’t cope and the world blipped out.

Booting up took a lot longer than usual. Sixty’s consciousness sat on a precipice, waiting for his systems to allow him access to his chassis. The first thing to come online, like always, was his hearing. And he didn’t like the sounds from around him, sniffling, harsh, panicked breathing and the occasional “Sixty? Oh fuck, Six, I’m sorry”. Sight was the second thing to come back and Sixty spotted Allen kneeling next to him on the bed, looking a little frantic.

“Fletch?” His question was soft, uncertain but Allen’s eyes snapped to his immediately.

“Fucking hell, what just happened?” Worry made Allen angry and he scowled as Sixty tried to sit up.

“I don’t know.” That was the honest truth, Sixty had been enjoying Allen’s weight on him one moment, then Allen was demanding to know who he was and now this.

“You flipped, went all machine on me then shut down. I thought you’d died!”

Bit of a dramatic assumption, or Sixty would have thought that until Allen followed it up with a soft “your LED went out.” That was not an ideal situation and Sixty tried to scour his data for the missing moments of time but all he got back was a blank. Nothing, not even corrupted data. It was unsettling to say the least.

“My apologies,” Sixty pushed to sit up as he spoke, “I must have a malfunction. I will return to the office and run a diagnosis. If I cannot identify the root issue, I will return to CyberLife.”

A hand on his chest stopped him. Sixty had seen that hand slam suspects into the ground before, knew how rough and hard it could be. However, on him, it was gentle, resting there and asking him to stay down rather than forcing him. The more Sixty thought about it, the more he realised Allen had only ever been gentle with him.

“Stay. Run your diagnostics, enter deep stasis here, I’ll hold you through it. You don’t have to do this alone.”

That wasn’t an offer Sixty had ever expected. He looked at Allen wide eyed, wondering why this human seemed to take such an interest in him. Before he could open his mouth, Allen carried on, “You don’t have to, of course. But I want you to know you’re safe here. I’ve grown really fond of you over the last couple of weeks and I care for you. I want to be able to help.”

The only response Sixty had to the was to reach for the hand on his chest and link their fingers together, his own hand white with a subprotocol initiating interfacing active without his conscious permission.

“For what it’s worth, I’m really quite fond of you too,” he ended up saying with a small smile.

Such confessions out of the way, it was almost comical how Allen bossed him around, making sure he was comfortable, that he didn’t need any additional thirium or anything like that before curling up next to Sixty.

“Do your thing, I’ll be right here,” he promised. Gently settling next to Sixty, Allen opened his arm in an invitation which Sixty was more than grateful to take up. Rolling in, he tried to get comfortable but in the end, they swapped places. Allen’s head rested on Sixty’s chest and he smiled.

“I can hear your pump like this,” Allen murmured and he looked up to watch Sixty’s face fall lax, LED turn yellow as he entered diagnostic stasis.

It was morning before Sixty came out of stasis. Next to him, Allen was still draped over him, a leg across his hips, an arm over his chest, thoroughly pinning Sixty down. He didn’t have the heart to wake his boyfriend so Sixty turned to analyse what his diagnostics threw up. It wasn’t straightforward or a happy picture. His CPUs were slowing down, aged before their time thanks, in part, to all the stress he had been put under by trying to keep up at work. It didn’t help that Sixty was a prototype, designed to be flashy and able to show off a wide range of skills. What he wasn’t made to be though was sturdy. Once the RK800 line was demonstrated, orders immediately started coming in for the upgraded version - the RK900. In short, Sixty wasn’t made to last and definitely not under long term stress.

“What’s the prognosis?” Allen’s voice was still thick with sleep and he hadn’t opened his eyes just yet but his hand found Sixty’s and gave it a squeeze.

“Not ideal,” Sixty admitted after too long a pause. “There’s no one specific component responsible for the glitches.”

He couldn’t admit that the whole of him was faulty, that he was built to be lesser than he wanted everyone to believe. Even worse was having to try and admit it to the man that he was slowly falling for. And that was a terrifying thought in and of itself. Sixty hadn’t been built to love. He had no idea what havoc such a thing was wreaking on his systems.

“Not to worry, we’ll get you sorted in no time.” Allen sounded so sure of this that Sixty almost believed him. Only, he knew it was a bit of a fantasy to be able to repair him. Without a fixed issue other than general wear and tear, there was nothing specific to rectify. No component to swap out and be done with the problem. The problem was Sixty as a whole and there was no replacing him without losing himself in the process. Not to mention the cost of parts and labour would far outweigh his worth.

For a few days, Sixty didn’t say anything, let Allen fuss and try and come up with solutions to the problem. They had established that it was stress which brought on Sixty’s blackouts. During those few moments or minutes, he reverted to what amounted to factory settings, completely machine with no emotional attachment to the memories he had retained. When Sixty’s deviant self surfaced, he had no recollection of the events. To him, the world stopped existing for that period of time.

It should have been under control, Allen was quietly redirecting work away from Sixty, trying to minimise the stress around him. It seemed to be working too. There were fewer incidents of Sixty blanking out, he began to trust his systems more. Of course it was sod’s law that everything went tits up.

Sixty had been in Allen’s office, going over a report and playing footsie under the table. It had been fun, pleasant and he left smiling. What Sixty didn’t anticipate was Muffin popping up from behind a desk, wearing a mask and yelling “boo” in his face. Stumbling backwards, Sixty remembered toppling, seeing the ceiling and then nothing.

This time, when Sixty came back online, he knew something wasn’t right. There were hoodies and soft things padded around him, half the team was kneeling by his side, pressure on all his limbs while Allen was supporting his head in his lap.

“Six?” he asked softly. “You okay?”

Blinking rapidly, Sixty looked around again, worry taking root in his mind. “What happened?”

A handheld diagnostic device was plugged into one of his ports. It had obviously been jammed in harshly as the contact smarted from a forced connection. There wasn’t anything specific coming up on the screen, Sixty could tell that much, simply a generic error message.

“Muffin scared you, you toppled backwards like a piece of rock and started fitting. We thought you were going to break your limbs and bite off your tongue.” Allen’s voice was still soft and sorrowful.

Perhaps it was just as well that Sixty had no recollection of that, it sounds truly horrifying. The only thing he could do was apologise for and distress caused. Immediately, he was being shushed by those around him, quick to be reassured that their concern was for his welfare rather than anything else. It was still humiliating and Sixty struggled to get up. The blanket quickly wrapped around his shoulders was such a human reaction, he almost laughed at it. Or would have if there wasn’t some part of him soothed by the action, the acceptance it symbolised. Suddenly, Sixty was struck by how badly he didn’t want to leave his team behind when the RK900 was ready.

He was given the afternoon off and Allen actually took half a day as holiday to see him home. They sat on the sofa, Sixty was curled against Allen’s side, eyes closed as he worked through the errors his system had thrown up. Most of them were unspecified and he couldn’t do much with them other than clear them from his logs. The process didn’t help much, he couldn’t find the real root of the issue. However, the comfort he derived from having Allen next to him almost made up for it. Not having to go through the whole thing while on his own was reassuring.

Blinking back into the present when all error notifications were dealt with, Sixty looked up at Allen who was reading. By the looks of things, he had been stuck on the same page since he opened up the book.

“All good?” Allen asked, putting the book to the side before Sixty could say anything.

“I have dealt with all the notifications.” It wasn’t a proper answer, avoiding the core of the truth. Sixty had no clue what was going on other than general wear and tear at an accelerated pace.He was beginning to suspect that it was the only cause of his problems. There were no faulty parts, no coding errors. Just the painful fact that he was rapidly aging beyond his design and function. Such a fact was enough to draw a harsh, shuddering exhale from him. The air he blew out was warm, fans working to cool his systems.

“Six?” Allen was moving around to hold Sixty. “Talk to me, what’s wrong?”

The truth came tumbling out in halting, hitching words. Shame coursed through Sixty as he told Allen he wasn’t as good as advertised. His usefulness was rapidly coming to an end and, now that Sixty thought about it, he was terrified.

“Oh sweetheart,” Allen murmured as he held Sixty. “I wish I could interface with you to help.”

It was always going to be a risk, a relationship between a man and an android. The physical differences weren’t many but they were significant.

“I just want to feel close to you,” Sixty stuttered. His regulator was losing its rhythm slightly and as his stress levels rose, Sixty found himself in a vicious cycle. The more his stress levels rose, the more he worried about the consequences and that pushed the levels up even more. In a way, it was a blessing when the world blinked out.

This time, Sixty was on his feet and his lips were moving with words he’d forgotten. Opposite him, Allen was slumped dejectedly on the sofa and staring at him without hope.

“I’m so sorry!” Sixty’s lips trembled and he crossed the room to kneel at Allen’s feet, staring up at him imploringly. “Whatever it is I said, I am so sorry.”

“It wasn’t you,” Allen ran a hand through Sixty’s hair fondly. “I know you. And that wasn’t you speaking.”

To silence the further begging Sixty looked prepared to do, Allen leaned down and captured his lips in a soft kiss. Hands urged Sixty to rise up, to straddle Allen’s lap.

“While we can’t interface, let me show you how humans get close to each other?”

That was how Sixty ended up being led to the bedroom, clothes slowly peeled off him while Allen kept kissing him wherever he could. Not that Sixty was just standing there, his hands were desperately fisted in Allen’s shirt, mouth working over his pulse and seeking reassurance that they were both alive, together and very much in the moment.

By the time they were naked, Allen was pushing Sixty back onto the bed, urging him to lie down while he crawled on top of him. Kisses were trailed up Sixty’s chest, special attention paid to his regulator which made him writhe.

“Just before we get too carried away-” Allen stopped and stared down at Sixty. “-I’ve grown very very fond of you over the last couple of weeks. To the point where I can confidently say that I love you.”

“Oh.” Sixty had no idea what to say to that. He dug through his internal folders, pulling up file after file, precious space on his drives that were all dedicated to Allen. The way he felt, all the analyses Sixty had gathered of him. Stills and short videos capturing his smiles, frowns, one highly treasured wink. Sixty didn’t have a lot of spare capacity and yet he still chose to fill them with Allen.

“I love you too,” he replied with a soft gasp.

Their declarations descended into soft kisses and fumbling, Allen’s hips flexing as he worked himself open while murmuring sweet filth into Sixty’s ear. At times he dipped down to kiss and nip at his chest, tongue circling his regulator. It all had Sixty arching up into the touch, desperate for more which was gladly given as Allen sank down on his cock over and over again. That night, they fell asleep sated, filthy and clinging to each other.

Going back to work, they knew that their time was limited. Each day was stolen time they clung to, waiting for the inevitable. Whether it was the announcement that the RK900 was ready to take over or for Sixty to have an episode he couldn’t recover from. Neither of them knew which could be a worse outcome. All they did know was that the episodes Sixty was experiencing were becoming more frequent and longer. To mention it though and talk about it made it more real and they weren’t ready for that yet. The relationship too new, far too much in the honeymoon phase to be able to ruin it with the prospect of it ending sooner that either of them wanted to think about.

Sixty had a rather public episode at work. They were gearing up for a practice run, one that was going to use live ammunition and a few surprises. As soon as he heard about it, Sixty’s stress levels had ratcheted up quite a few notches. In the changing rooms, chatter was being thrown about, laughter with mock threats of friendly fire as payback for petty things like drinking the last of the coffee and not refilling the pot. Unfortunately, the mere notion of it was stressing Sixty out and he lost his grip on the world.

He tuned back into the world to the sight of the team looking uncomfortable, barely daring to look at him. Only Allen dared approach him.

“I’m benching you. Desk work from now until we can get your fixed.” There was no sorry, no acknowledgement of their relationship. It was all business and Sixty spent the time while the team were out, hacking into the cameras from the changing rooms.

The recording showed him flipping between his usual demeanour to something a lot more rigid, harsh and demanding. He laid into the team for being irresponsible and discourteous, reeling off rules and regulations against threatening fellow teammates. It was painful to watch and by the time the others trailed back into the office, freshly showered and in high spirits, Sixty was ready to enter stasis for a thousand years, maybe even longer. Nobody mentioned it to him, they all acted like nothing was wrong. Probably Allen’s doing, forcing a normalcy into a situation that wasn’t okay at all.

Only when he and Allen were home, safely ensconced in the darkness of the bedroom Sixty had been led to did it all change. Still clothed, Allen had pushed him down onto the bed and clambered to lie on top of him, head resting on Sixty’s chest.

“Your pump sounds different.” It was an observation filled with pain. The hand cupping Sixty’s cheek moved higher, the red of his LED painting it almost bloody.

A change in the beat of his regulator was something Sixty was painfully aware of. He had been tracking it, keeping note of it and he knew what it meant.

“I don’t want another episode,” he cried, hands fisting in the back of Allen’s shirt. “Please. Make it stop.”

Dreading it only made it worse, brought the blankness on quicker and Sixty lost the futile fight all while Allen was trying to reassure him that it was okay, that Sixty would come back to him soon.

When the world became reality again, Sixty knew something was wrong. Allen was sat next to him, dark bags under red rimmed eyes. He had obviously rearranged them which meant Sixty hadn’t reverted to a machine setting. Which probably meant things were getting worse, a lot worse.

“Fletch?” he asked meekly.

“Oh fuck, Sixty! You’re back. Thank fuck.” He was scrambling to cup Sixty’s cheek, look him over even though he was used to human health checks rather than android. It was the thought that counted. What Sixty didn’t know was whether he should ask what happened or ignore it. But ignoring it hadn’t worked up to that point and it likely wouldn’t help in the future either. Perhaps it was time to face the problem head on. So he mustered up the courage to ask.

“You seized up. Made the most horrifying screeching noises then went limp. Sometimes it looked like your programming was trying to get you to surface. You were reeling off system status statistics in the flattest, most robotic voice I have ever heard.” There was no need for Allen to say he had been terrified. It was written all over his face.

“I’m sorry.” That was all Sixty could say.

At the same time, Allen took a breath and carried on. “I’m sorry. I am so sorry. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to help you.”

The tears were starting to threaten again and Allen hid his face in the crook of his elbow. It did nothing to cover up his heartbreak. Sixty could only pity him for falling in love with a faulty machine.

There was no denying it anymore. Sixty was breaking down, his processing power degrading until he was barely more competent than a rookie. The team tiptoed around him, there was even a soft sofa set aside at the edge of the room. Each time Sixty felt his pump regulator start to whirr, he made his way over to it and someone, usually Allen, would sit with him until the onset of the episode and would still be there when Sixty returned to himself. Only, as the days wore on, Sixty noticed that it was different people who sat with him before and after. And the time that he spent unaware of the world was also becoming longer. It was no longer seconds, or even minutes. After that night with Allen, it had easily become an average of an hour. There had to be some irony to being called Sixty and being unawares for 60 minutes. However, Sixty didn’t appreciate the humour of the universe.

Nights were worse somehow. Sixty knew he ought to enter stasis but he never trusted himself, uncertain whether it was true stasis or an episode in disguise. Several times he had woken to Allen clutching at him, obviously shaken up but trying not to show it. In fact, most nights Sixty lost himself without even realising it.

To compound it all, the announcement of the RK900 being ready came and with it all hopes of repair and a happily ever after went out the window. Their already severely limited time together just got cut even shorter. Most of their time away from work, Allen held Sixty, whispered sweet nothings against his skin while his hand traced his pump regulator.

It was another lucid night. Sixty was lying in their shared bed, his back plastered against Allen’s chest. Even though it was dark, it was hard to miss the other signs of crying. The way Allen’s breathing hitched, his arms tight around Sixty. By all accounts, androids couldn’t feel pain as such, but there was no other word for what Sixty was experiencing.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. It was moments like that where he wished he could slip back into his lapses because then he couldn’t remember anything and his systems wouldn’t feel such an emotional strain.

“Don’t go, please, I’m begging you. We’ll run away, I’ll get you the parts you need somehow.”

It was tempting, the idea of Sixty being able to up and leave, forget all about the recall order and live a regular life with his partner. “I wish we could. But we’d be fugitives, a SWAT Captain on the run with a rogue prototype that’s breaking down. I have what, a month? Maybe two left at this rate. That long isn’t worth your life, your career. I’m not worth that.”

It hurt to say but it was the truth. And he wasn’t going to let Allen watch him deteriorate any further. It had been bad enough, blinking back into another aftermath of a lapse. They were only going to get more frequent, worse. The last one had been bad enough and now that the seizures were starting to become more frequent than relapses into being a machine, Allen would be even more helpless to do anything but watch. Worst case, he’d try to help and get injured for his efforts.

“Promise me one thing,” Sixty’s voice wobbled. “Don’t hate him when he arrives. The RK900 won’t know about us, won’t know who he is replacing or why. Give him the same respect and welcome you gave me. It’s not his fault, okay?”

Asking that hurt but Sixty knew the RK900 didn’t deserve any backlash. The rest of the team probably wouldn’t show any kind of animosity towards him but Allen had a personal connection to Sixty. Human nature was such that Allen could well reject the RK900 on a logical fallacy.

“I can try,” Allen rasped. His words were raw, his heart on his sleeve more than Sixty had ever seen it before.

Neither of them slept much that evening. Sixty didn’t dare enter stasis and he turned onto his other side. It served the purpose of hiding his red LED as well as being able to cup his cheek and kiss the tears away. Not that Sixty could really analyse them anymore. At least, not beyond the fact that they were tears and that he only knew because he saw them trickling down Allen’s cheeks.

“Thank you,” he murmured. “For making these last couple of months bearable. For allowing me to experience what it’s like to love and be loved.”

Their last night together and they didn’t dare make love. Sixty’s systems were so precarious, even positive excitement would have probably tipped him over. Instead, they tried to treasure each other’s company, commit as much of the other to memory as possible. Even if it was futile in Sixty’s case. The next day he was going to be decommissioned, all his memories would be transferred but only those deemed worthwhile would be kept. Most of Sixty was going to be ripped to shreds, memories he had kept safe through all of his system glitches would be thrown out, perceived as trash stored by a malfunctioning android.

In the morning, they got ready in absolute silence. Sixty put on his best clothes, a suit Allen had bought for him on a whim. If he was going to die, he was going to do it in style. His systems were protesting each stress, made all the worse by the lack of stasis. Not that it mattered anymore. He and Allen walked into the SWAT building hand in hand.

The RK900 stood outside of Allen’s office, waiting patiently to be given his new assignments. Even seeing him made Sixty’s world narrow down and he forced all his focus onto the feel of Allen’s hand in his. The other android would be relieving him of his duties. Relieving him of his life. Sixty didn’t want to approach him but had no real choice.

“RK800 #313 248 317 - 60 you are hereby relieved of your duty. Report to the nearest CyberLife resource centre to be decommissioned.”

Nodding, Sixty had his orders. He was done. Hand slipping from Allen’s, he turned away. They had agreed that they weren’t going to say goodbye, no final glances back, no last kisses. They had that before they left their home. Sixty walked towards the door, ignored the pained cry of “Sixty! Wait!” from Allen. He couldn’t turn back. So he kept walking.

This time, when the world narrowed, optical units glitching, there was no familiar, warm hand in his to focus on. Sixty knew his legs had given out and he crashed to his knees, his hands barely catching him as he toppled forwards. Warnings of catastrophic failure warnings flashed in his HUD. Distantly, he could hear Allen shouting his name, a hand was turning him onto his side as though he were a human passing out. The last thing Sixty heard was a scream of “you bastard!” in a rage filled, familiar voice. Then there was nothing.

Just like the last thing to go was hearing, it was also the first thing to come back. Sixty wondered why he could hear the steady clatter of fingers on a keyboard, the whirr of mechanical arms and his body being manipulated into a standing position. His systems were slowly coming online, checks all coming back as functional. That hadn’t been the case in a long time.

“Welcome back, Sixty,” a strange voice called. “You gave everyone quite a fright.”

Thankfully Sixty had no recollection, no data other than corrupt files in his memory of the events and he purged them without a second thought. There were a couple of holes in his data banks but the vast majority of it was intact. The most important ones - the ones he had locked tightly away under all the protection he could offer a data packet - those were still safe. Not a single byte of his files on Allen were lost. So all was okay.

It still took a good day before he was allowed off the rig. His modesty had been preserved, he had been dressed in the suit trousers he had worn on his last day to work. The stress of those memories didn’t make his systems glitch and Sixty marvelled.

“Why have I been repaired?”

“New bill. All deviants have access to the care they need. The Jericho Foundation Fund pays for it all.” The technician shrugged. “Plus you were deemed a fun puzzle for the brainboxes. They wanted a challenge and you provided. Consider yourself lucky.”

When Sixty was at long last allowed off the maintenance rig, he was given back his shirt and suit jacket. Finally dressed and feeling more like himself than he had in a long while, Sixty was ready to go. Only, he had nowhere he needed to be. At least not until the technician gave him a friendly slap on the back.

“I think you’re wanted back at work. The Commissioner asked us to tell you to quit being lazy and go make sure your team actually does their job.”

That did not sound like the Commissioner at all and Sixty suspected the technician was heavily paraphrasing. It didn’t matter though because a surge of excitement passed through him at the idea of returning to the team. To Allen.

A taxi had been called for him and Sixty gave it instructions to return to the office. He was nervous, filled with trepidation. Because he and Allen had said their goodbyes. Now, Sixty was reneging that farewell. Doubts about Allen not wanting him back plagued him but it was too late to worry.

Stepping out of the taxi, Sixty stared up at the building before going in. The codes were still all the same, his interface granted him access as though he had never left. It made him wonder why his credentials hadn’t been removed from the system. Still, he wasn’t going to complain, especially not when he stepped into the office and a few eyes stared at him. However, Sixty didn’t have time for any of the team. He only had one person in mind.

The path between the desks had never felt shorter or longer at the same time. Sixty walked past his old desk, it didn’t look like it had been touched by anyone. Distantly, Sixty wondered where the RK900 was in all this. He hadn’t seen any sign of his replacement at all. It didn’t matter though because Sixty was standing outside the door of Allen’s private office, hand raised to knock. It opened before he had a chance to make contact with the veneer.

“Sixty!” Allen’s voice was breathless with surprise and he wavered as if deciding whether the step back in shock or throw himself at the android. That decision was made for him when Sixty stepped closer.

“Hello, Fletcher,” he murmured, suddenly shy.

Sixty didn’t expect the squeezing hug that he was enveloped in. No doubt, if he had been human, this would have been a bone crushing hug that would have driven all breath from him and made his ribs strain under the pressure. As it was, Sixty could simply enjoy the tight contact. And ponder about the cast on Allen’s wrist. It looked fairly new and he definitely hadn’t been sporting it before they were separated.

Seeing Sixty’s curious look, Allen shrugged. “The bastard didn’t just try to steal your job. He was also wearing your face.”

In other words, Allen had punched the RK900 when it looked like Sixty had permanently shut down. His LED had gone out and, in his grief, Allen didn’t know quite what to do. So he’d turned his grief and anger at the new android. The RK900 was thoroughly rejected by the team. It wasn’t just Allen’s influence. Nobody could work with him, citing his eerily similar face to Sixty and the trauma they had all gone through in the weeks leading up to his decommissioning. So, the team was left without an android until Sixty was fixed and returned to them.

“You’ve got your old job, if you still want it,” Allen offered softly.

“RK800 313 248 317 - 60 reporting for duty,” Sixty replied smoothly.

“And you’ve got your old boyfriend back too, if you still want him.”

Rather than use words, Sixty pulled Allen in, not for a hug but for a kiss. Behind him, the team cheered. They even laughed when, without breaking the kiss, Allen raised his cast clad hand and flipped them all off. He had his boyfriend back, healthy and safe. That was all he cared about. Everything else could just wait their turn. If there was anything Allen had learned in the last couple of months, it was that life was too precious to waste. Even if your boyfriend was meant to be a state of the art android prototype, touted to be the pinnacle of human invention. Maybe, it was in spite of that, that even the smallest things in life needed to be appreciated. Because if there was one thing Allen knew, it was that even the infallible could tumble.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr is still my haunting ground, find me on there as @connorssock. There's a nice chunk of head canons and ficlets on there that haven't been posted on here.


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